Over a Cup of Tea
by wowza101azwow
Summary: Alice travels to China with the persistent bittersweet memories of her Hatter. Will they ever see each other again? Perhaps they'll meet once more. Perhaps they'll converse over a cup of tea.
1. Chapter 1

She was looking in his golden-green eyes from across the many tables shoved together during tea time. Everyone else seemed to have disappeared and slowly she rose, pushing herself up and bracing herself with her hands on the tea-stained tablecloth. She stood on the embroidered seat of the chair and stepped onto the table. She slowly started to progress towards him, seemingly miles from where she now was. He giggled as he watched her kick over plates of scones and tea cups. She disregarded the clangs of breaking porcelain and clatters of stirring spoons hitting the compact dirt of the color-stained forest. She slowed down and stopped. The white-laced bottom of her light blue dress floated inches away from his puzzled face. His widened eyes followed up her long legs to her abdomen, up her lovely neck to her red lips, and from her rosy cheeks to her dancing blue eyes. Locking in his gaze, she gracefully lowered herself down, legs dangling off the side of the table and torso turned to face him.

"My Alice," He lisped in wonder, barely audible.

Trembling, he reached out towards her and she let out an audible sigh as she anticipated his touch. Her lids fluttered shut as his pale bandaged fingers slid up her neck, stopping below her ear and pulling her body into his. He quietly stood like this and with a swift motion, he cleared pots and cups from the area of the table behind her with his arm, letting them roll off the table and glide to the ground, shattering. He angled her back more and she inhaled sharply as he nervously smiled into the nook of her neck. She propped herself up more with her elbow as he leaned into her body, slowly lowering himself onto her. One of his hands was brushing her soft golden curls from her face, the other pushing himself up, as to not crush her dainty figure. He gently parted his lips and kissed down her jaw line. As her ventured closer to her lovely mouth, her frantic hands entangled themselves in his bright orange hair, knocking his hat off. He glanced only once to his beloved hat lying in the fluorescing grass. She reacted to his tender touches with involuntary shivers and her hair stood on end as his lips gently grazed hers. He softly pressed his mouth down on her moist red lips. With her free hand she traced her fingers down his chest, feeling each chiseled muscle on his perfect body through his shirt. She stopped the kiss, pushing him back with her hand and looked into his darkening, now emerald eyes. She closed her eyes to blink, and in that moment she felt herself being scooped into his warm, strong arms, bridal style.

"You are quite full of muchness today!" She whispered playfully after she had yelped, surprised. Her arms snaked around to the back of his neck, clasping each other.

"Not ever as much muchness as you, my dear Champion." He answered, grinning down at her.

He proceeded to turn, swinging her feet around knocking a full teapot over that had survived his earlier "table clearing". The contents flowed from the spout. Alice closed her eyes and enjoyed the floating feeling of swinging in his arms. Back and forth. Back and forth. The sound of the tea's splashes oddly grew louder and she soon felt liquid splash on her hands behind her Hatter's neck. She felt his grip slowly disappear leaving tingling where his hands held her.

"No!" she cried, "Please, no!"

She buried her face into his fading chest and the swinging that had soothed her became violent rocking. She felt nauseated. She started to sob, her chest heaving up and down, as more water splashed on her shaking body. He was almost gone, now and she looked up to see his entrancing face all at sea, confused, and misty. He pressed his transparent lips on hers and disappeared completely, leaving a cold mist to surround her.

"TARRANT!" she now screamed. She shot up and with red, puffy eyes and nose running, she found herself engulfed in stained sheets of a bed on a flooding ship. She bitterly remembered her destiny: China. She collapsed back down on the sheets, soaking her pillow with her hot, salty tears.


	2. Chapter 2

_I can't even begin to explicate how busy this week has been—I apologize for the late update._

So without further ado…

She lay there, painfully immobile in a sorrowful daze. She had gotten used to the incessant itching of the hay-filled mattresses of the ship. She had gotten used to the constant rocking that had primarily succeeded in making her vomit every time she stood, her legs violently quivering with nausea. She had gotten used to feeling cold and to the danger of the persisting storms that were excruciatingly common. She had gotten used to her meals of stale bread and salted meat. She even got used to the perverse crew of filthy, crass men. She could not, however, shake off the nightmares, the thoughts, the visions of her Tarrant.

Each day she would sit in the solitude of her private cabin and try to concentrate on the trade plans she was going to have to go through with. She knew that stress and exhaustion held hands with the complexity of her plans. She knew the pangs of regret's wrath that consumed her would inevitably sap her of energy and vivacity, her fading _muchness_.

She watched as green salt water trickle down the molded, wooden stairs, the remains of angry waves splashing over onto the deck. The once comforting sound of water had grown to be an annoyance. She was growing more bitter, too exhausted and irritated to conjure up new riddles. She already had enough problems to ignore, why add riddles to the list?

She sat up on her cot and reached out, blindly patting her fingers on her small side-table, grabbing a smooth candlestick as well as her matchbox. She fumbled with the matchbox, and plucked a match from the jumbled heap. Striking the tip against the molding surface of the side-table, her small cabin was flashed with vibrant orange light. She brought the dying ember to the blackened wick and the light strengthened. Blowing on the match, she watched the smoke rise, bring the familiar scent of fading sulfur. She grasped the candle, the soft flame casting dancing light on her pale skin, and fished a small mirror and comb from her side table's drawer, placing the candle on top. She kept the mirror face-down, on the dull sheets next to her. With her left hand, she reached around her neck and scooped her blond hair, draping the tangled curls over her left shoulder. Gently, she combed the ends of her hair, working her way up. She tried to suppress her sharp intakes of pain-induced breaths as she started to rip through the sea of knots. Her breathing grew faster, as relentless thoughts invaded her sanity. She continued this with more force, until she suddenly hurled her comb onto the damp floor, startling even herself. She looked, blankly into the darkened part of her cabin. Her shaking hands reaching for the mirror's silver handle brought her out of the trance and she tightly clutched it, bringing the gleaming back side towards her face. She took a breath and placed it under her pillow. She pushed herself up to the candle and softly blew it out and the dark engulfed her vision. The uncomfortable cot welcomed her back as the muscles in her body became dormant.

"Another day..." She whispered to the shadows.


End file.
